But What if There Were Two?
by McDouggal
Summary: Shepard and McDougal are two halves of the whole, and have been inseparable since boot. Please give criticism; this is my first time writing fanfiction. Rated M for language and some graphic descriptions of violence. Trigger warning for claustrophobia and PTSD. AU; will become more and more AU as the story goes.
1. Chapter 1: Welcome to Boot

**========A/N: Temper your expectations. I haven't written anything other than essays and lab reports for 5 years now.**

**Don't expect me to keep a schedule of releases; my writing tends to go 20 hours getting maybe five sentences done, then half an hour where everything flows out and it's just right. However, because of this, my updates will be slow.**

**A few other things: despite the male protagonists name, this is not a self-insert. It's just a naming convention I have; my male protagonists are named McDougal.**

**At this point, I have no romances planned.**

**A bit of world building: the N program is not just the special forces training, N 1-3 is officer training. Every officer in the Alliance is at least an N1. You can be trained upbto N6, but N7's are the best N6's. Maybe 1 in 5000 SA soldiers are N6, and 1 there's one N7 for every 20 N6's.**

**You'll notice a lot of similarities in Chapter 1 to Heinlein's Starship Troopers. I did my best not to plagarize it, but there are a lot of similarities. Please don't crucify me.========**

Chapter 1: Welcome to Boot, you wimps!

Clara Shepard was nervous.

This in itself doesn't seem odd; most people get nervous about things in the course of their days. What made this odd is that Clara was one of the most self-assured people that you would ever meet. She had the tendency to dominate any room she entered, and was the unspoken leader of her group of friends on Arcturus Station.

This makes no difference when a Drill Sergeant with half of his face replaced by decade old cybernetics is looking right at you as he bawls out the latest group of Systems Alliance Marine recruits.

"This is what they send me? I asked for Marine recruits, not Navy washouts! Look at you! I'd be surprised if even one of you apes - no, apes doesn't do it for this group. I'll be surprised if even one of you wimps manages to make it through boot.

"Now, since none of you wimps know how this goes, if me or any officer of the camp gives you an order, you respond with 'sir yes sir!' or 'aye aye, sir!' and immediately follow that order. You will start and finish all responses to a superior officer with 'sir.' If any of you forget this, you will do 50 pushups on the spot. Who coughed? I said, who. Coughed?"

A deeper voice to Shepard's right responds "Sir, I did, sir!"

"And which of you wimps is 'I'?"

"Sir, Edmund Smith, Sir!"

"Well, recruit Smith, since you appear to be cold, fall out. See that tower out there? Run around it and return. Avers! Pace him. Make sure he runs the whole way."

"Aye Aye, Sir!" yells Smith as he breaks out of the line and begins speeding off towards the tower, Sergeant Avers easily keeping pace.

As the sergeant continues in much the same line, explaining basic rules and expectations of the camp for those souls dumb enough to not have read the literature given by the recruiting office, Clara realizes something. The Sergeant hasn't raised his voice or used profanity at all so far in this speech. He hasn't needed to; he can do his job just fine without it. It still doesn't stop him from describing the recruits shortcomings, physical, mental, and genetic.

Another exclamation pulls her from her thoughts.

"And you! What's your name?"

"Sir, McDougal, Sir!" Clara sneaks a look; the Sarges new target is only two people to her left. A male, with a somewhat wiry body, white skin, closely cropped black hair, and what look like dark green eyes. She'd hazard a guess at around 5'8".

"Full name, recruit!"

"Sir, that is my full name, sir!"

"What in the galaxy do you think you can provide to this group? You're shorter than most of the women in this group! I'd bet that most of them are stronger, too! You must be the king of the wimps!" the Sergeant spins away and continues his speech before the last target can respond."

...

"... You must be the king of the wimps!" Stepping back, McDougal stays calm. Being the target of a drill sergeant is perfectly fine. Since he's gotten off the streets of Earth now, he is determined to see through his tour of duty. A direct insult like that barely even registers; certainly not enough to get a rise out of him. As long as he can just fly under the radar for a while, he should be able to muster out at the end of his tour.

He yanks himself back to reality as the Sergeants tone changes.

"I can't believe it. This is all they send me? A bunch of wimps barely weaned off the teats of their mothers? I don't know if I can do this. Maybe this batch is the one that finally makes me quit.

"Alright! Listen up you wimps! If one of you-just one-can beat me in hand to hand combat, there might be some hope for all of you yet. Is anyone up to the challenge?" As soon as he finishes, he scans up and down the line. There's a little shuffling of feet, recruits forcing themselves to look straight ahead so that they don't have to make eye contact.

"I'll ask again. Is there anyone who thinks they can take me?"

McDougal shakes his head. It's against his better judgment, and entirely against his plan, but his mouth seems to move of its own accord.

"Sir, I don't know if I'll be able to beat you, but I suppose as the king of the wimps, I need to defend the honor of my subjects, sir."

*oh shit oh shit oh shit why did I just do that? No, not the time. Need to come up with a plan. He's got height and reach, probably strength, maybe speed, not to mention military training in hand to hand. All I've got is some moves I picked up on the streets. Welp. I'm fucked. Gonna give it my best shot though. Maybe he'll make a mistake.*

The Sergeant speaks, interrupting the thoughts. "Rules of engagement: no killing. Do not intentionally injure your opponent in such a way that would prevent them from doing their job. Sound good?"

"Aye aye, sir."

*hard packed dirt ground, no rocks or loose dirt to throw. That leaves a shadow drop, but he'll be taking this careful. I'll have to bait out what I need.*

*this is probably going to hurt*

The combatants fall into their stances, and McDougal begins to circle to the left to better protect his weak side. His motion is mirrored on the other side of the ring.

Suddenly, the Sergeant explodes into motion, launching a precise trio of punches.

McDougal had read it and leapt back in time, but faked the landing, making it look like he had stumbled and was off balance

-bam-

a big right hook connects on his shoulder and McDougal drops absorbing the momentum in his knee, launching past the Sergeant's overextension and onto his blind side, pulling up behind

-smack-

a punch landing right in the ribs of the Sergeant, who was unprepared for the blow

-pff-

left foot to the back of the left knee

And it was over. McDougal secured the victory with a classic pin. He hops up once the officer gives the signal and returns to the line.

The Drill Sergeant stands, surreptitiously testing his knee as he does so. It apparently still has function, because he walks up to McDougal and asks "recruit, how in the fiery hells of Tuchanka did you do that?"

"Sir, it's a move that I call the shadow dive. When an opponent launches an attack at me, I feign going off balance, baiting him into a followup attack in an attempt to finish the fight. I then intentionally take the next shot, dropping onto the leg opposite the side of the impact. Using the fact that I have my feet under me, with my opponent overextended and arms blocking the sightline, I quickly jump to the rear of the target, hitting a pressure point then the load-bearing knee, sir."

"And why did you know this would work?"

"Sir, I figured that you would've read my file and seen that I was raised on the streets of earth. The logical conclusion is that what fighting style I had would be more along the lines of brawling. Respectfully, sir, I'm a runt. Just about everyone had reach, height, weight, and strength on me. I had to fight smart to survive. I've lived because I was underestimated or dismissed as unimportant. It was an educated guess that you would be prepared for a brawler, not a sly fighter. Sir."

"So, you beat me not because you were better, but because I underestimated you?"

"Sir, that and bad Intel, sir."

"Have you had any formal training in CQC, recruit?"

"Sir, no sir."

Spinning away, the Sergeant raises his voice a level. "Let this be a lesson to you all. Bad Intel can doom an op. And always assume that your opponent has something up their sleeve. I have reach, weight, height, formal training, and strength as advantages over McDougal, and he beat me. Your. Opponents. Deserve. Respect. Even if you find them to be despicable in every way, respect their combat ability. For the one time you don't, you'll end up on the ground - and i can't guarantee that you won't have some new holes, instead of bruses to your body and ego.

"McDougal, Shepard, Qern, and Thales, come with me. The rest of you, dismissed."

A chorus of 'yes sirs' is followed by a mass exodus of all but the Sergeant and the four named recruits.

-5 minutes later, officers mess-

"3 of you have been picked for training as N1's based on your tests coming in here. The fourth put his name in the hat as of ten minutes ago, and he is going to retake the tests as I suspect he intentionally fudged them to be lower than they should have been."

McDougal interjects "sir, why me? The only thing I've done so far has been defeat you in a fight. I'm not a leader, which I thought is what you were looking for in the N program. Heck, just by looking around the room, I can already tell that Shepard is going to have great presence on the battlefield. Quern looks like a lock for command of a brigade within two years, commander of the Marines of an entire fleet in 10. Thales looks to be the exact person you want for deniable ops. What exactly do I bring to the table? Because I can't see anything. Sir."

A smile from the Sergeant. "You just did it, recruit."

"I just did what?"

"You read people and situations like a book. You think laterally. You're willing to take shots to accomplish your goal.

"You are EXACTLY the type of person we want in the N program.

"Any other questions? No? Dismissed."

Qern and Thales take off. Shepard and McDougal leave at a more measured pace.

**========A/N: And there's chapter 1. Please review and tell me how I can improve.========**


	2. Chapter 2: 80's Style Power Ballad Time!

**========A/N: thanks to those who followed and favorited. It's good to know that people do like the story.**

**I didn't do this last chapter - Bioware owns Mass Effect, I do not.========**

CHAPTER TWO: START PLAYING AN 80'S POWER BALLAD

Leaving the officers mess with Shepard, McDougal takes a better look at her. She's a few inches taller than him, around 5'10, dark brown hair that's near the edge of what regs allow worn lose, brown eyes. Athletic body; looks as though she runs marathons.

She speaks, saying "Great presence on the battlefield? What made you say that about me?"

"You held yourself in cool control. Everyone in that room looked to see what you were doing before they started listening to the Sergeant. You weren't shaken whatsoever by the news that you were being considered for the N program, while the other students - me especially - were at least a little surprised. If I had to guess, you were some sort of leader among your group where you grew up."

"What else can you 'read' off me, as the Sergeant put it?"

"Given, your tan - or rather, lack of one - you probably grew up on a space station, away from natural sunlight. You're well educated, which leaves Gagarin, Arcturus, or Grissom. You wouldn't be at this camp if you were a biotic, so Gagarin is out. The people coming from Grissom go into engineering or biotics if they join the military at all, which leaves Arcturus.

"From there, it's easy to guess that you were the daughter of at least one member of the military, and since Arcturus is mostly home to ranking officers, probably career and officer. This means that you either grew up with only one parent around most of the time or had very little parental supervision at all once you started school.

"How'd I do, and what's your read on me?"

Shepard stops, utterly flabbergasted. "You figured all that out because I didn't have a tan and was well educated?"

Also stopping with a bemused smile, McDougal responds "A little bit of logic can go a long way to deconstructing a situation or someone's past. There were a few other clues as well; your body type is that of a long distance runner, which isn't common on Earth but is common in those who have spent a long time on space stations. Also, given the slight nod you gave, I'm now pretty sure that you never really knew one of your parents.

"But it's time for your read on me."

...

"... But it's time for your read on me."

Shepard is still a little shocked. The man had just read her like an open book, with hardly any other information to work with. She quickly snaps out of it, and begins her read on the man in front of her.

"You grew up on the streets of Earth. Since you only have the one name, it's probably a safe bet that you didn't know either of your parents. From your speech, you were probably a part of one of the gangs, and probably a smaller one - a larger one wouldn't have taken in a smaller kid since they could afford to be a bit choosey.

"Given that, I expect that you probably proved your worth and eventually took a leadership position within the gang. As for why you left, I'd guess that it was a way to get away from Earth. How'd I do?"

"You would be right - I never knew my parents, and I joined a smaller gang. But you would be wrong about taking a leadership role; only strength is respected in the gangs. The way I survived was simply not being noticed."

"Then how-"

"Did I get the ability to read stuff? It helps to know what people's pasts are like, and identify likely possibilities. My gang went through four major leadership changes - most bloody. I always faded into the shadows a few months before they occurred, and nobody was the wiser. Picking a side in an intra-gang fight is tantamount to suicide if you're a grunt."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Truthfully, I don't know. It's something that I just do without thinking."

"What'd you join up to be?"

"A biotic."

"Be serious now."

"I'll probably end up as a sniper of some sort - I'm small enough that if anyone got into melee with me, I'd be at a severe disadvantage, but I don't have enough tech knowledge to be an Engineer. Probably an Infiltrator, but more focused on the sniping aspect of that. If I had to guess, you're going to be a Soldier."

"Yeah, I suppose you'd be right. I would much rather face my enemies up close. Unlike a certain someone who just expressed a desire to be back from the front lines..." Shepard trails off, a grin spreading across her face.

McDougal grins back. "I'm willing to bet that I can still beat you in any contest you name."

"To the ring?"

"To the ring."

...

3 months later, training on the firing range. One week until end of boot.

"That's 23 of 25 possible points with the pistol, 10 of 25 with the sniper, 19 of 25 with the shotgun, and 25 out of 25 with the AR, for a total of 79 out of 100 points. That sniper portion really dragged you down, Shepard."

"I'm sure McDougal will be willing to work with me on the snipers. Speaking of him, how'd he do?"

"I don't know how you two mange to keep this rivalry friendly. You compete on everything. But I'll tell you what I've told you every time before - you'll have to ask him. I can't reveal it until everyone has finished the test. Regardless, you passed. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir."

Clara steps out of the firing range to see a very smug looking McDougal. She forestalls his question by saying "79. And you?"

Mcdougal starts grinning like a madman. "83. The shotgun section really threw me off, but I got a perfect 25 in sniping and pistols, and a 20 with the AR. Let me guess, the sniper did you in?"

"Spot on. Don't have the breath control to do those long distance shots. I'm fine untll you get 200 meters out, then I can't hit anything."

"Eh. We're still the best shots in the group. I swear that 2/3 of them can't hit a target at five meters with a sniper, let alone 50."

"So, I beat you in the house clearing test -"

"You beat most of the INSTRUCTORS in that test. That just leaves the half marathon in full armor tomorrow."

"Wanna give up now?"

"Hell nah. I might not beat you, but I can damn well try."

...

Eight months later, N3 training, Luna Station

McDougal's voice crackles in her ear. "Two hostiles, 2 o'clock high, 55 meters. They have clear line of sight along the planned entry route. I do not have a clear shot. Almost certainly in constant contact with the base. Go."

Shepard immediately calls out "Go to approach point Beta. McDougal, come down and join us; you'll do no good up there as we head through Beta." There's no response. There doesn't need to be one.

5 minutes pass, and they meet up with McDougal, who's breathing a bit hard from having just run a mile to meet with them in time. As they approach the target building, McDougal puts his sniper on his back and pulls out his M39 "Claw" burst fire carbine. He gives a grunt of annoyance; he doesn't like using anything other than snipers or pistols, but in the close quarters of a building, using either is a bad idea. Shepard just smiles; they're entering her element soon enough.

"Prepare for breach. Volunteer for first through?" she asks the squad behind her. A hand goes up. "Perfect. Get out your shotgun and prepare to super your shields."

The breach goes off without a hitch; the volunteer lost his shields, but his simulated wounds are responding well to the medigel. Of course, they're now bottlenecked at the bottom of the stairs, engaged in a shootout and unable to make any forward progress.

Suddenly, a grenade goes off up the stairs and the unmistakeable sound of a burst fire rifle being shot heralds the entrance of McDougal to the fight. He'd turned on his tac cloak, climbed up the wall to the end of the balcony, gotten into cover, then flipped out a grenade and opened fire. Shepard immediately orders the team to storm the stairs, and they proceed to clean house without incident.

As Clara exits her simulation sphere, she looks over at McDougal and shakes her head a bit. He's got that look on his face that says he's got bad news. "Should we talk about it back in the dorms?"

"Probably. On the other hand, it's not exactly secret. Your call."

"Lay it on me."

"Firstly, I beat you in the sim today, but secondly, they just got out to Mindoir. Only two survivors, and one of them isn't expected to make it. The other one... I do not want to be in that poor kid's shoes. Scuttlebutt says she's so traumatazied that she can't remember anything. At all. Her mind is basically gone. She can't walk, talk, has no bladder control... The Alliance says that they've devoted as many resources as possible to finding the slavers, and they damn well should. That's the third successful attack in two months, all within that single sector.

"Also, they're apparently graduating us early. Apparently, they can't teach us any more here. But for whatever reason, we've been ordered to Pinnacle Station. We leave tomorrow. I'd bet money that these are connected."

Shepard snorts. "Yeah, they're sending us to Pinnacle for N4 training."

"No they aren't. We haven't seen live fire yet. You need at least one live fire mission under their belt before you can start training as an N4."

"So, you say that they want to train us for the upcoming assault on the slaver base?"

"Took you long enough. They're moving us up through the ranks fast; I overheard one of our instructors saying that we're a lock for N6 and possibly even N7."

Shepard shakes her head. "At least we're striking back soon."

"Amen to that, sister" exclaims McDougal, clapping Shepard on her shoulder. "C'mon, let's go get some food."

**========A/N: Thanks for reading. I was originally going to include their first action in this, but it's stretched long enough as is. Plus, the 'Amen to that' line was just too nice of a way to close a chapter.**

**Before anyone asks, yes, I am taking some minor liberties with the event timelines.**

**Please review and tell me how I can improve.========**


	3. Chapter 3: Attack on Torfan

**========A/N: If you want to beta this, shoot me a PM.**

**What's this? An incredibly fast update? It just hit me, and everything felt like it was coming out right.========**

Chapter Three: Attack on Torfan.

Briefing room aboard the SSV Everest. 1 month since departure from Luna base.

"All right, men. We believe we've located the location of the slavers who have been attacking colonies in this sector. Our target is the moon Torfan. On here, the slavers have a large base - approximately 4 square kilometers on the surface, with an unknown amount below the ground. And they are below the ground.

"Our way in is ugly. Because Torfan is a garden moon, citadel law says that we cannot simply bombard them from space. We also can't simply land shuttles in the compound - they have 64 separate antiaircraft batteries located throughout the base. This forces us to land at least ten klicks out from the target complex. They also have an unknown number of outposts situated at specific points around the base.

"Our first task is to land our strike teams in their designated areas. Don't worry too much about that, your shuttle pilots know how to fly those things and get you down safely. Just know what your next target is.

"Now, since we have a Dreadnaught and its accompaniment, we really don't have much choice of stealth. As soon as you are boots on the ground, get moving towards your objective. In most cases, this is a simple bunker capture. We do NOT want the slavers in our rear.

"Once you have secured the bunkers, prepare for the assault on the base proper. We have quite a few volunteer gunship pilots who are going to launch a blitz as the attack starts. It is under this cover that you will launch the attack.

"Our primary objective once the attack begins is to disable or destroy the AA guns. Once we do that, we control the airspace, and can clear the remainder of the buildings.

"Do not intentionally harm the slaves unless your life is at risk. We are here to help those poor souls, not hurt them.

"Any questions?"

McDougal raises his hand. "Sir, do we know approximate enemy numbers, weapons, and training?"

The general responds "Not as much as I'd like. What little footage of them we have says that they're primarily Batarians, and much better armed than your average slaver band. We've seen Kishocks, Revenants, Eviscerators at the top end. Most weapons that we've seen are military grade. That leads us to a secondary goal - figure out where they got these weapons from. Training is a complete unknown, but in a band this large, if there weren't at least a few professional mercenaries I'd be shocked."

A Major across the room raises his hand. "Collateral damage, sir?"

"None more than necessary.

"No more questions then? Move out. We hit the shuttles in two hours."

...

3 hours later, surface of Torfan.

Mass accelerated rounds are flying everywhere around her. Their battalion had walked straight into a trap.

"Goddamn it Dougal, can you hit one of those goddamned MG's?"

His voice crackles through her com "Sure, if I wanted to lose my head to that sniper I haven't located yet!"

Shepard pops her head up and spots him before tucking back into cover. "11:30 high, 90 meters from ya."

There's the sound of two shots through the coms and suddenly the incoming MG fire is cut in half. "Damn, that sniper he had looked like a modified Black Widow. I might need to salvage that. One MG is down, don't have an angle on the second."

"Copy that. Battalion, prep smoke! Launch on my mark, advance on a count of two after! 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, mark!"

23 smoke grenades fly out. They wait two seconds, then open up with suppressive fire and move up.

"Clara, I've got an angle to land a grenade in the bunker. Am I clear?"

"Take the shot, no friendlies in danger. Battalion, COVER!"

*foonk* ... ... ... BAM.

The battalion watches as the roof of the bunker pops up momentarily before it collapses down on everyone inside it.

McDougal calls out "Thermal shows no moving heat sources in the area. I think we're clear for the moment. Medics, tend to the wounded. Clara, let the fleet know that this bunker has been destroyed. I'm heading up towards high ground, check and see if they have reinforcements inbound."

"Copy that, Dougal."

"SSV Everest, this is Lieutenant Clara Shepard, third strike battalion. Major Thompson is dead. We have destroyed our target bunker and are currently treating our wounded. Lieutenant McDougal is getting to high ground to check for incoming enemy reinforcements. Orders?"

"What is the status of your casualties, Lieutenant?"

"Five dead, three wounded too badly to continue this fight but stabilized, ten with minor wounds that will heal very quickly with MediGel."

"Understood. We are dispatching a medevac shuttle to your location. It should arrive in three minutes."

"Copy. Shepard out." She turns back to her troops. "Alright, we've got a medevac shuttle coming in three minutes. Get the wounded ready for transport. Grab what ammunition you can. We move when the shuttle leaves."

McDougal's voice comes in. "Clara, we're clear. No reinforcements incoming. I'm going to check out that sniper. Back with the group in five."

"Take care of yourself, McDougal."

"Yeah, yeah. It's a cadaver. I nailed him right between the top eyes."

Turning back to the troops, Shepard orders "If you aren't wounded or tending to wounded, see if you can get anything out of the bunker. We know that there were at least a couple of high quality MG's in there."

She looks up to spot McDougal sliding down the hillside towards the sniper he killed.

"HOLY SHIT SHEPARD!"

"What?! WHAT HAPPENED?!"

"Shepard, it IS a Black Widow! AND, if my suspicions are correct, it's got a suppressor for both sound and flash on it! Gimme a moment, I want to take a test shot to confirm that..."

Shepard strains her hearing, and barely hears the *fump* as the MA round fires, with the only visible sign that the weapon had been fired being a large cloud of rocks and dust exploding upwards.

"Holy shit, it barely has ANY kickback either! It kicks LESS than a Viper! Whoever made this is a master of their craft. And it's mine now. Holy crap, it's even got an integrated heatsink for if you don't have thermal clips! I feel like a kid in a candy shop. Holy crap, the scope has adjustable zoom out to 400x! AND has thermal and NV! Shit, he's even got a high quality detachable tripod for supported shooting. Heading down to you after I check for other goodies on this stiff."

...

Two hours later.

"You know, you still have that stupid look on your face."

"Yeah, well, you would too if you'd just found a gun worth a little over two million credits."

"Maybe, maybe not. What do you see anyways?"

McDougal grimaces. "Not a lot of good. That blitz had better blow open a few holes in the perimeter wall or we're going to lose a lot of men trying to scale them. At least they don't have a lot of antiinfantry turrets. I'm going to try to take those out first.

"Their ground troops are mostly in light vehicles. That's good, if the gunships can hit them. I'm working on marking them as best I can, but doing that while remaining unnoticed is difficult. Depending on how many are removed, we could have a problem.

"I'm a bit surprised that they aren't giving us armor support. That would allow much easier destruction of the AA batteries."

Shepard frowns. "So, five minutes to the beginning of the assault. Plan changes?"

"Have our heavy weapons ready to blow a big hole in that wall. If the gunships don't do it, we'll have to. Other than that, no change. I'm looking forward to trying the new rifle out.

"Actually... The assault is starting on this wall. I wonder... Maybe I can hit a few on the opposite wall. Two klicks isn't that far, especially not with this rifle."

"Don't do it, McDougal. They'd just deploy over there and screw up your spotting."

"Yes, mom."

Shepard cocks her head. "I think I hear the gunships. I'll let the troops know. We ride as soon as they pass."

A tense half minute passes before the gunships whip by overhead, flying fast and low. "Shit, rockets, put a hole in that wall!" McDougal yells while taking down as many of the turrets as he can. Once that's done, he looks downrange and sees the burning hulks of most of the slaver ground vehicles.

The General's voice blares over their coms, "GO GO GO GO GO" and the charge begins. McDougal stays up in his perch; no enemy can see him or locate him by flash or sound, so he has no reason to move. He takes down enemy after enemy, prioritizing the ones that are actively firing or have higher quality weapons.

Shepard leads the charge. Third battalion's target building is halfway across the complex; they're the vanguard of the vanguard.

Suddenly, the General's voice comes over the coms, warning of "Incoming orbital drop MAKOs, quadrant three! Battalions three, nine, and thirteen break off your assault and move to support the MAKO group!"

"McDougal, you hear that?"

"I did. Moving to your position now under tac cloak."

Shepard looks up to the sky and sees the unmistakeable light of MAKO thrusters slowing down their vehicles before they hit the ground.

"Third, ninth, and thirteenth battalions, we are landing in 30 seconds. Our job is to neutralize enemy armor and destroy AA guns, in that order. Your job is to secure our flanks and rear."

"This is Third battalion. We got your left flank." Shepard calls out.

"Thirteenth. We'll bring up the rear."

"Ninth. We got the right."

A bunch of loud *thunks* are heard as ten MAKO's land and begin opening fire, their cannons decimating the AA batteries.

"Command, Lieutenant McDougal. Fifth battalion is pinned down and needs relief. Focus fire requested at these coordinates."

"Copy that, Lieutenant. First and 29th battalions, focus fire on those coordinates."

McDougal slides in next to Shepard. "They're using human shields inside some of the buildings. If you don't mind, I'm going to be sniping those asswipes. I'm pretty sure that those buildings are the holding pens; most of them are getting cleared without incident."

"Go for it. We've got this locked down anyways; the slavers don't have much of anything that can damage the MAKOs."

"Keep your head low."

"Same to you."

"Hello? I'm the one with the cloak of invisibility? All I need to do is not get caught in a crossfire. Call out if you've got a problem." McDougal activates his tac cloak again and drops out of the visible spectrum.

Fifteen minutes later, the AA batteries are pacified and all buildings on the surface are secured. Heavy assault troopers land in shuttles and relieve the strike force.

Third Battalion had eight deaths and seven severely wounded, and everyone was exhausted. But they'd done it. Torfan was all but theirs, and the slavers who worked there would attack no more colonies.

...

N6 training, **#location redacted#, **seven months later.

Shepard walks up to McDougal in one of their rare break periods. "Major Wentzworth has finally been convicted of his 39 counts of execution of prisoners."

"Good, that damn butcher was a menace. What's the sentence?"

"Dishonorable discharge and execution by hanging from the neck until dead."

McDougal grunts. "He should've been sentenced MONTHS ago. There was no doubt about his guilt, and he was unrepentant. Damn son of a bitch. Everything we accomplished on Torfan is being undermined because of what he did."

"I don't disagree, but I would rather have an airtight conviction rather than go through several years of appeals."

"I'm still shocked that he even got a lawyer to work for him. I can't imagine it's a good idea to have your name attached to a case as the defense attorney of a convicted war criminal."

"It got the Asari's name out there, didn't it?"

"Eh. Any good news?"

"It depends on how you define 'good'. A coalition of slavers in the terminus systems have put out a press release saying that they are going to strike back at the Alliance in revenge for the actions of Major Wentzworth."

"That's not how I define good. I'm annoyed because they're framing this in terms of revenge, when they work slaves to death every day. They are violating the exact same law, they just get to pretend it doesn't apply to them because they're in the Terminus."

"Also, graduation is in eight days, if we can survive the exit exam."

"Oh, yes, the 'here's a knife and fifty feet of string, survive a week in a hostile environment' test. Wonderful. At least we get to have a partner if we request it."

"I took the liberty of scheduling a hotel in Elysium for two weeks after the test is over. I'm assuming you're coming along?"

"Clara, you couldn't stop me if you tried."

**========A/N: Review please! Seriously, you're making me nervous with the lack of feedback.========**


	4. Chptr 4 Survival on location redacted

**========A/N: A quick clarification on weaponry.**

**At this point in time, nearly all military grade weapons use thermal clips. It is very rare to see a new weapon marketed to military purchasers that does not use thermal clips.**

**Civilian weapons rely exclusively on heat sinks; that's good enough for self defense and it doesn't cost you 10 credits per clip. They're also cheaper and of lower quality in general. The tradeoff is that they don't have the sheer long - term firepower that a thermal clip weapon does.========**

Chapter Four: Survival on **#location redacted#**

N6 graduation test, **#location redacted#, **three days past landing on **#location redacted#**

"Dammit, Clara, we're almost out of food. Local wildlife learned to give us a wide berth quickly."

"You're the one who insisted that we shouldn't make snare traps with some of our precious string."

"And I was right, we used most of it to get our shelter up. We don't have enough left over to make even one. Given the damn predatory... Things... I think that shelter was the right choice. At least they're dumb and haven't figured out how to cut the string anchoring everything."

"Yeah, you're right. Speaking of which, we need to get some dry wood for the fire. I'd rather not have to face those things in the dark."

"You do that. I think I spotted some fish analogues in the river we're getting water from. Gonna get water and see if I can't grab one of them. Hopefully they'll have meat on them."

"You sure you can do that?"

"I've got the better reflexes of us, and we'll need to be fast to catch a fish by hand. Kills me that we haven't found anything we can use as rope though; it would be a days work to make a gill net, and then we'd be set for food for the rest of the week."

"Alright, two hours to sunset. Let's get to work."

...

One hour later, at the river.

"And that makes five!" McDougal exclaims to precisely... Nobody.

Damn, these fish are stupid. They swim right next to him time after time, and he grabs them, pulls them out of the water, and puts the blade of his knife in behind their skull before wading back to shore.

'So, that's ten fillets' he thinks to himself. 'If I can catch three more fish, we'll no longer have to worry about food, and will only have to leave the camp for water.'

Suddenly, motion in the corner of his eye. 'Damn, that things easily four times the size of anything I've caught so far. Come to papa... A little closer... Closer...' his hand knifes into the water, grabbing the monster behind the gills and pulling it up and out, putting his knife through the back of the neck before it can react.

'This is too easy. There's gotta be a catch somewhere.'

He grabs a few reeds to use as a makeshift stringer for his catch, grabs their water sack, fills it up, seals it, and begins the short trek back to the camp.

...

Three hours later, **#location redacted#, **campsite.

"Damn, that's a LOT of eyes looking at us" McDougal mutters. "What I'd give for a sidearm right about now. These spears will only kill one at a time, and that's if they don't have some form of ranged attack."

"We're breaking camp tomorrow. We've overstayed our welcome here."

"Yah, no shit. At least they aren't approaching the fire. If I may suggest we FUCK ON YOUR LEFT!"

A... Thing with one big hind leg and two shorter front legs and most importantly a mouth filled with sharp teeth launches itself at Clara. She quickly turns and braces the spear for the impact, and impact it does. It doesn't shatter the spear, but it knocks Clara off her feet and still sinks a quarter of its length into the animal.

Clara clambers back to her feet and grabs a second spear from the lean-to. "Those things launch hard, fuck that hurt."

McDougal takes a quick look at the fire. "Clara, the wind is blowing away from us. Quite hard, actually. We could"

Clara sharply cuts him off. "What do we do when the wind switches, then? Hope its burned itself out? Fire doesn't discriminate, Dougal. Once it's started, it's hard to stop."

"Fine then. Did you grab any sticks that might be good for use as torches? Fire is the only thing keeping them at bay, maybe we can use it to chase them away."

"Yeah, I did. On the other hand, it would take far to long to light them."

"Wait. Keep an eye for a moment, I'm going defenseless." With that, McDougal leans his spear on the lean-to and pulls off his shirt, then rips it in half.

"McDougal, what are you doing - oh, I see."

McDougal was tying half of his shirt to the end of his spear. As soon as he finished, he dipped a trailing piece of fabric in the flames and watched as it lit up. "This is either going to work, not work and I'm out a shirt, or end up with me dead. I'm betting it works though."

...

One day later, banks of the river.

"Shit, it's bleeding again."

"Dammit McDougal, I told you not to move your arm!"

"I didn't! It opened up on its own!

"Clara, heat up my knife and get me something to bite down on. It isn't closing on its own, and the risk of infection is damned high."

McDougal's gamble had worked... Mostly. He'd driven the predators away from the camp, but got to close to one and it jumped on him and got in a bite on his arm before Shepard killed it. The morning after, they'd moved to a bend in the river and McDougal laid down and tried to remain as still as possible to stop the bleeding.

"But..."

"Clara, I can see an actual doctor about it once I get back, but for now, this wound needs to be cleaned and cauterized, or I might lose the arm."

"But if I slip..."

"You won't. Toss me that scrap of cloth there after you wet it, I'm going to clean out the wound. Also, grab a chunk of hide. I'll need it as a teeth saver."

Shepard does as instructed. She puts the knife blade in the fire, wets the cloth and grabs a chunk of hide and hands them to McDougal.

"Alright, do you know how to cauterize a wound?"

"No. It wasn't covered in basic med training."

"Of course not. Alright, here's the deal. This is going to hurt like a bitch for me, which means that you need to immobilize my arm. Since we don't have fancy bindings, that will be accomplished by you kneeling on both sides of the wound. That also handily removes the need for a tourniquet to be applied above the wound.

"Once you start, DO. NOT. STOP. UNTIL. YOU. ARE. FINISHED. Every bit of that wound needs to be burned, and I'd prefer if we could do it all at once. It WILL hurt like hell while you're doing it, but better temporary pain than the loss of an arm or my life.

"Fill up the water sack; once you're done, dump it all on the burned area. Ideally, we'd boil it first as well, but that hide is flammable.

"There's your crash course in cauterization of wounds. Any questions?"

"When do we start?"

"What color is the knife blade?"

"Dark red"

"Right now."

...

Five hours later

"AGH!"

"Good, you finally woke up. How's the arm?"

"Hurts like hell still, but you did a good job on the cauterizing. What's the predator status?"

"None. Moon's light enough that I can see fine, I've got the embers of a fire ready to burn if we need it. I'd prefer not to light it if we can avoid it though. We're down an arm, and the light might attract unwanted guests."

"If we can go the rest of the week without seeing a single animal, I'll head home happy. We're set for food and water, tomorrow we get a bunch of firewood. Get some rest, I'll"

"No, you won't McDougal. You're not in any shape to be moving yet. Just try to fall asleep. We can work it out when you wake up."

"Clara, you've been up for somewhere around 30 hours straight. You need rest. If there's a problem, I'll wake you."

"... Yeah, you're right. I'm exhausted. Wake me up in four."

"Twelve."

"Eight."

"Fine. Go to bed. You've earned it."

...

24 hours to pickup

"Clara, take a look at those clouds."

"They're clouds. Why?

"Because that looks a little bit like a thunderhead. Also, the world has gotten a lot more still recently. I don't think we're out of the woods yet."

"Oh. So that's the boot. Got a read for this?"

"Panic. No, if I had to guess we're going to see high winds and heavy rain at the least. Worst case is hail and lightning. It's going to hit us in around three hours; we should not be here when it hits."

"Then we move back to the original campsite. No big deal."

"Except if it does hail, I'm not sure the hides we have will hold up - not to mention if the wind comes anywhere but from the rear quarter, we're going to lose it anyways."

"All righty then. Break camp, into the forest. I think that I saw a cave, maybe there's a collapsed tree we can shelter under."

...

"You do know where this cave is, right?"

"Vaguely. Wasn't really important at the time."

"Clara, if we don't find it in the next fifteen minutes, we need to just bunker down under the hides and hope for the best. The wind is starting to pick up, and I can hear thunder."

"Agreed. I WHOOP!" Clara was looking back at McDougal and didn't see the depression in the ground... That her entire left leg was now stuck in.

"I think we're over a cave now. Don't strain it, let me pull you out."

Clara's face is white with pain. "A bit late for that, I'm pretty sure I sprained my ankle."

"Shit. Lean on me. Up we go... There's a slope over there. Hopefully it's got an entrance to the cave you found."

The duo performs an awkward three legged walk over to the slope, and lo and behold, there's an entrance big enough to crawl through into the hillside. McDougal goes through first; the cave is empty, and so he calls Clara in.

"Let me get a look at that ankle." Clara pulls off the bindings she used to protect her feet and shows it.

"Damn." Clara's ankle is bent at a 90 degree angle to her leg. "Clara, that's not just a sprain, that's a straight up broken ankle as well. I'll be right back; try to get a small fire going. We have a smokepipe anyways." McDougal crawls out, leaving Ckara alone with her thoughts.

She starts trying to get sparks off the piece of flint they had found, trying to light the leaves and kindling that they had brought along. It's something she can do to draw the focus away from the pain in her ankle.

Finally, she gets sparks to light the leaves. Gently blowing on the fire, she coaxes it to life. She hears the pops, snaps, and then a clatter as McDougal returns.

"I got some straight wood for a splint, and some larger pieces so that I can hopefully set up a door. At least it's tall enough to stand in here. Good job on that fire. You're nice and all, but only having body heat to share makes for a cold night for all involved.

"I'm going to get the door set up first; that's a bit more pressing. Drink some water, eat some fish. It's gonna be a long night."

"No crutch?"

"I didn't have enough time to cut down a young tree or climb up an older one. I'll get you one when the storm passes. Not like we're moving tonight anyways. Give me five minutes to make our door, then I'll take a look at your ankle."

"Alright. I'll find a strip of hide to bite down on."

...

Fifteen minutes later.

The rain is pouring down outside, and the wind is tearing at the trees.

Inside the cave, they don't even notice.

"HNNNGGGGGGH!" Clara once again pulls her foot away from McDougals attempt to set it.

"Clara, I know it hurts, but I need you to stop pulling away. It will feel better once it's set and splinted, I promise."

Clara's body is covered in sweat. Her eyes are scrunched shut, her mouth is tightly clenched around a piece of hide, and her hands are bunched up in her shirt.

"Clara. I need you to listen to me. Breathe in... Breathe out... Breathe in... Breathe out... Breathe in... Breathe out... Now, I need you to focus on your breathing. Keep that steady pace you've set. I'm going to try to set your ankle again. Focus on your breathing." He reaches forward and pulls Clara's ankle to him once more. He grabs the bottom of Clara's foot and the spot right above the ankle. "Keep breathing, Clara. Focus on your *ker-pop* breathing. There. We've set the ankle. Now keep breathing as I splint it."

...

Five hours to pickup

"McDougal, we can't stay here any longer. With my ankle still not being all there, we really need to get moving now."

"Fine. Just let me know if you need to lean on me; that crutch I found you can't be too comfortable."

"It's only two klicks."

"It's two klicks with you on a crutch over unevn terrain. We need to be careful. There's a reason I delayed until the sun was up for two hours."

"Take the knives, leave the rest?"

"Agreed."

...

SSV Agincourt. Medbay. Two days later.

"Congratulations, McDougal and Clara Shepard. In light of your record of service and training, you are hereby granted the rank of N6. As per your request, you have both been inducted into N6 at the same time, and although we cannot make it a policy, it has been noted in your files that you work best together, and splitting you up would be a bad decision. This was widely known throughout the Marines anyways, but now it's official.

"You are also hereby granted a month of shore leave, staring as soon as we drop you off on Elysium. Your weapons and armor are in lockers D23 and D24; I would suggest taking them with you on your leave."

"Thank you, Captain. Where do we report when our leave is over?" Shepard inquires.

"The military base in Elysium's capital."

"Thank you, sir."

McDougal quickly asks "Sir, are we cleared to leave the medbay?"

"That's something to ask the doctor, Lieutenant. Is there anything else?"

"No sir." Comes from the mouths of Shepard and McDougal.

"All right then. I'll leave you to each others company." The Captain walks out the door.

Clara turns to McDougal. "How's the arm?"

"Healed up nicely with medigel. Some surface scarring, nothing major. How's the ankle?"

"Doc just gave it a shot of medigel and gave me some painkillers. Said you set it properly, the medigel was just to mend the bones and torn muscles."

"Good. Where's that hotel you mentioned?"

"A taxi away from the LZ."

"Good. I can't wait to sleep in an actual bed."

"You and me both, brother."

**========A/N: Offer to beta this is still open. Shoot me a PM if you're interested.========**


	5. Chapter 5: The Blitz

**Trigger warning: Claustrophobia and PTSD**

**This chapter includes a protagonist trapped under a fallen building and, to be honest, freaking out a bit over it. He cannot move and cannot see just about anything, and he fixates on this for a good portion of the chapter. If you suffer from either of these conditions, please consider this a warning.**

**========A/N: I scared myself when writing the referenced section.**

**The repeated element (you'll know it when you see it) should be read as though it is going through the protagonists mind as he is thinking and talking, as if he has two streams of thought going at the same time.========**

Chapter 5: The Blitz

Nine days after landing on Elysium

"Hey Clara, got any plans for the day?"

"I was planning on hitting the rock trail, in armor if I could. Can't hurt to climb it in armor, seeing as I already did it out of armor."

"Yeah, I'll pass on that. Heard that the League of Legends galaxy qualifiers on Sur'Kesh are happening today, gonna watch those. I'll probably hit up the firing range around 18:00. Meet you there? I'll bring your guns."

"Sure."

...

15:00 hours

"And it looks like CLG-Sur'Kesh is going into the finals to face down the winner of Soloumnus Gaming and" the power goes out.

"Huh. That's odd." Suddenly, there's an earth shaking boom and much of the lighter loose material falls over. 'I could've sworn that we weren't anywhere near a fault zone. I guess I was wrong." McDougal thinks to himself.

Another boom, and then he sees it. A huge number of shuttles landing outside the grid of the air defense network.

He grabs his helmet and pulls it on, quickly yelling to Clara over the com "Clara, please tell me you're seeing this!"

A static filled voice answers back "Yes, I am. Meet me near Beatrice's Barbecue with my weapons, if you would. This old POS pistol gets three shots before the heatsink overloads. I desperately need a good gun."

"Shit, you didn't pack a sidearm?"

"No, I didn't. I'm fully loaded on thermal clips for all the good it'll do me right now though."

McDougal finishes strapping on his armor, pulling the weapons out of the closet and checking them before mounting them on his back. "And why are you fully loaded with clips if you didn't have a weapon that used them?" 'Black Widow, check. Claw, check. Carnifex, check. Now onto Clara's guns. Modified Mattock? Check. Scimitar, check. Paladin, check.'

"Because I always have thermal clips in my armor! Normally when you put on your armor, you're preparing for combat, so why wouldn't I load my armor up before I put it away?"

"Fair enough. I'm hardsealing my suit; better safe than sorry. I'd suggest you do the same. I'm across the street from the range and SHIT THE BUILDING NEXT TO ME IS COMING DOWN!"

"MCDOUGAL!"

...

Ten minutes later

'Ugh... I don't remember the world being this blurry... Or dark... I'm also pretty sure that I could move my arms and legs...'

McDougal snaps awake. 'Oh shit. Can't move can't see. Not good. How did this happen? Can't move can't see. Why am I in armor? Can't move can't see. Oh, yeah, I was running to meet Clara at Beatrice's Barbecue because she needed her guns for some reason. Can't move can't see. It was important. Can't move can't see. There were shuttles. Can't move can't see. And loud booms. Can't move can't see. Oh shit, Elysium is under attack. Can't move can't see.'

"Suit, run diagnostic." 'Can't move can't see.'

"Suit is fully functional, sir." 'Can't move can't see' The synthesized voice of the suit VI responds.

'Can't move can't see' "Suit, open a com 'Can't move can't see' channel to Clara. And 'Can't move can't see' get me a readout 'Can't move can't see' of what I'm covered in 'Can't move can't see.'"

"Proximity sensors 'Can't move can't see' report that we are covered 'Can't move can't see' in approximately three 'Can't move can't see' feet of rubble 'Can't move can't see' of small to 'Can't move can't see' medium size, sir."

"And the channel to Clara?" 'Can't move can't see'

"Connecting you now 'Can't move can't see' sir. Connection 'Can't move can't see' established."

"CLARA! PLEASE'Can't move can't see' TELL ME YOU'RE HEARING THIS 'Can't move can't see'"

Clara's voice, barely distinguishable through the static, sounds like heaven on earth. "McDougal? Where are you!? 'Can't move can't see' Activate your distress beacon 'Can't move can't see' so I can come get you."

"Activating 'Can't move can't see' now. According to the suit VI, I'm 'Can't move can't see' under about three feet of rubble'Can't move can't see' but the suit is still functional. 'Can't move can't see'"

"I got the signal, I'm coming as 'Can't move can't see' fast as I can. Hang 'Can't move can't see' in there, brother, we'll get out of this yet! 'Can't move can't see'"

'Can't move can't see can't move can't see can't move can't see can't move can't see can't move can't see can't move can't see can't move can't see hurry up Shepard can't move can't see can't move can't see can't move can't see can't move can't see I can't take this much longer can't move can't see'

Noise. Rocks clattering away. Light. The light is getting brighter. Brighter. Brighter. Brighter. Vision. He sees the helmet, and through the visor, Clara. He can move his left arm. He pulls rubble off of his right arm and forces himself up. Pulls his legs out of the rubble.

McDougal launches himself at Clara, wrapping her up in a massive hug, whispering "Thank you" over and over to her.

Clara simply holds him for a bit before pushing him away, reminding him in a low voice "Elysium is under attack. We need to get to the defense outpost; that first boom was apparently the military base getting hit with a bomb. I told them I'd be back in ten minutes max, but they're just green soldiers and civilians. Most of them haven't fired a gun in their lives. We need to hold them off the outpost; most of the population is there now."

"... Most of them are in an outpost?"

"The outposts are the largest emergency shelters in the city, outside of the military base" Clara explains, pulling McDougal along towards the building. "Once people realized that they were under attack, they all went there. There's somewhere around 5,000 people in there, and all of five soldiers manning the outpost, with nothing heavier than some M-8's. I told them that I would be back quickly, that I just got word from a trapped friend who had more weapons and was also an N6."

"Who's the ranking officer on the planet now?"

Clara grimaces. "Until we hear otherwise, we are. The leader of each outpost detachment is a Corporal. But coms are down in general; they took out the wired ones and are jamming wireless. What I can tell you is that the outpost that I came from is likely going to face the brunt of the attack. Somewhere around 90% of the shuttles landed near there, and if they want to attack the city, they have to hit the outposts first."

"Got a numbers estimate?"

"Hundreds if not thousands."

"Well, that'll be fun."

They come up to the outpost; the doors quickly open to admit them and shut behind them. The Corporal walks up and says with a clear undertone of panic, "Vasquez spotted them. They're about four minutes away from firing range. What do we do?"

McDougal responds quickly. "I want two men with their weapons trained on this door at all times. If they breach our defense, we need to bottleneck them at these doors. Is there another way out for the civilians?"

..."No sir. The other exit was at the military base."

"Dammit. Send a pair of soldiers down there as well; it'll help them if they see that there are people there ready to defend them. Go with them. Any other entrances to the outpost?"

"There's a postern gate near the rear of the building."

"Put the last man there then. Shepard and I will get up high, fire down on them. Does anyone have an ETA on Alliance reinforcements?"

Shepard quickly speaks up. "Elysium has to perform a checkin every fifteen minutes with Arcturus. The rapid response fleet can be here in a little under 15 hours. The SSV Agincourt is still in space, doing what it can to threaten them."

"Alrighty then. Corporal, deploy your troops. Clara, let's go give them a show they'll never forget."

...

Eight hours later.

The sound of gunfire and the whining of MA rounds flying through the air has been a constant companion for much of the last few hours. The slavers had stopped trying to push up to the door after each attempt had left another few dozen on the ground with a new hole or two. At this point, it was a game of hide and peek between McDougal and the slaver snipers, who had the advantage of cover fire.

McDougal had the advantage of being undetectable if he wished to be.

Chestshot, armshot, headshot. When you have an antimateriel rifle, it doesn't matter where you hit them. They're out of the fight if they get hit.

And McDougal doesn't miss shots.

"Clara, MG nest 10 high 40 meters. Can you hit it?"

In response, Clara pops up, her Mattock spraying fire downrange right into the unfortunate gunners before she pops back into cover as rounds fly over her head. "Relocating. Peterson, I'm low on clips. I need a resupply."

"Yes, ma'am." He quickly pulls off the postern gate and runs to the supply closet, grabbing a supply box of thermal clips and rushing up the stairs to Clara.

...

Four hours later.

"Door guards, they're setting up another shot! Hug your cover!" 'Where the fuck did they get an LAV from?' McDougal thinks, irritated at the ill turn of luck. "Clara, the group suppressing me is 1:30 low 20 meters. Put a few rounds at them; I need to stop the LAV from blowing the door apart!"

The unmistakable sound of Clara's Mattock firing coincides with a sudden lack of enemy fire coming in through the windows. He activates his cloak and stands up. 'Gunner, driver, fuel tank. I've got one shot at this.'

*fump* *fump* *fuBOOOM*

"LAV neutralized."

...

Two hours later.

"Clara, big rush forming behind red. They've gotta know that the Alliance is going to be here soon; this is probably the make or break moment."

Clara responds quickly. "Johnson, get up here. And bring ammo. McDougal, how long?"

"Thermal is showing someone waving his arms and pacing back and forth. He's probably giving a big climactic speech. Less than five minutes."

"Gotcha. Size of the charge?"

"Pretty much everyone. If we break this, they'll probably rout. If they break in... well, I enjoyed knowing you."

The upcoming fight is Clara's element. She'll let McDougal have his HVT hits; let her handle the chaotic situation of a massive rush.

A massive roar comes from behind the building.

Clara grins and pulls the trigger as the slavers round the corner.

Her Mattock begins thumping into her shoulder, its fully automatic fire decimating the slavers.

A round pings off the side of her helmet. She ducks down and grabs her last grenade, setting it to inferno and tossing it over her head.

The screams of the slavers as they're set on fire or stopped by the roaring flames is music to her ears. Her shields now recharged, she pops back up and pulls the trigger again.

She barely pauses to reload, ejecting clips in the same motion that she puts a new one in. Round after round sprays from her rifle, until even the barrel is warm from friction.

Johnson takes a hit in the left shoulder and goes down in a spray of blood. McDougal has long since abandoned any semblance of picking his targets, simply pulling the trigger on his carbine as fast as he can in hopes that the sheer volume of fire will cause the slavers to break.

They reach the door. They slam into it in hopes that their sheer momentum will carry them through. When it doesn't, they begin to panic. Anyone who tries to hack the door open gets ripped apart. Nobody wants to put explosives on the door, because the detonation will surely kill them.

It's a slaughter. By the time they break, barely 100 slavers are left.

McDougal collapses onto the floor, utterly spent. Clara goes and applies Medigel to Johnson before doing the same.

...

The SSV Kilimanjaro and its associated fleet pops into the system. Frigates go out to intercept the few remaining slaver vessels in the system, while the cruisers and the Kilimanjaro disgorge shuttle after shuttle to the planetary surface.

"This is Admiral Gendon, Arcturus rapid response fleet. I need to speak to the commanding officer on Elysium."

The voice coming over the coms is somewhat staticky, female, and obviously exhausted. "Lieutenants Clara Shepard and McDougal here. As far as we know, we're the ranking officers on Elysium."

"Ensign, get me their files on my screen." Hitting the button to talk over the coms, he asks "What happened here?"

"Slaver attack. Huge one. Thousands of slavers were involved." The voice over the com is distinctly male now. "The attack started with a bomb on the military base. We never received any communication from there after the bomb went off. Civilians evacuated to emergency shelters; mostly military outposts. Clara and I were on leave; when we realized Elysium was under attack we moved to outpost 15."

Clara continues. "Outpost 15 took the brunt of the asault. With the help of the garrison, we held it and prevented it from falling. Sending helmet cam footage to you now, sir."

"Sir, relief of the outposts should be first priority. Most of the men have been fighting for fourteen hours straight. We're exhausted, to a man. The vast majority of the civilian population is in those emergency shelters as well."

"I will take that under advisement, Lieutenant. Kilimanjaro out."

**========Please review.========**


	6. Chapter 6: Arrival of orders

**========A/N: I have updated the description; all further chpaters should be treated as though there is a trigger warning for PTSD and claustrophobia.========**

Chapter 6: Arrival of the orders

One day after the arrival of the SSV Kilimanjaro

"Admiral, the Lietenants McDougal and Shepard are on board."

"Direct them to meeting room 13, Ensign."

"Yessir."

...

Five minutes later.

Admral Gendon walks into the room and sees two still exhausted soldiers. He quickly says "at ease, soldiers.

"What you two did on the ground at Elysium was amazing. I've had men go over your helmet cam footage; you did everything right in a situation where panic would not have been unexpected. The civilians on Elysium have named you both hero; I have personally put you forward for the Star of Terra for your actions, as well as recommended your promotions to Commander and N7."

Clara speaks up; McDougal just looks out of it. "Thank you sir, from both of us. I'm just glad you arrived when you did; we were near the end of our respective ropes. If you hadn't arrived, we wouldn't be here."

"Be that as it may, you both held a position while vastly outnumbered and outgunned. It would be remiss of me not to give you an award or five.

"I also came to warn you; you are both heroes to humanity - in the Alliance military and on Elysium now, soon to be across the galaxy. You are likely going to attract some attention from fans, and the Alliance is likely going to use you in recruitment campaigns. You won't be giving speeches, but you will be up on posters and whatnot. Your days of just being a pair of soldiers is over. Once we return to Arcturus, you are likely going to be swarmed by reporters and admirers. I would suggest simply moving to your room as quickly as possible.

"Shepard, your mother has taken leave and should arrive at Arcturus within two days. I'd suggest letting her know where your room is; we'll be arriving in three."

McDougal speaks up. "Sir, I take it the Alliance has a spin they want us to put on the story? You wouldn't go this in depth if the Alliance wasn't planning a media blitz."

"Correct. We will forward the relevant information to your omnitools.

"Any other questions? No? Then I will take my leave. Deck 17 is where you'll be staying while on board; talk to Sargent Andrews for information on that."

...

One hour later, deck 17 mess.

"You'd think that bring based at Arcturus, they would have non reconstituted food on board."

"It's still food, Clara."

"Debatably."

"Aren't I supposed to be the one complaining about the situation?"

"Well, we didn't get the best nights sleep last night if you recall. I'd like that briefing to arrive soon so we can hit the pods."

*Ding*

"Speak of the devil..."

"And he shall appear" Clara finishes. "What does it say?

"We probably don't want to take it in the mess; I guarantee you it's at least level three classified."

"Um. Armory?"

"Probably the best bet. Not like anyone's there anyways; the Marines are ten decks below us."

The pair stands up and starts walking off towards the armory, dropping off their empty trays at the garbage can.

"So, it's signed as from Hackett, six other Admirals of varying ranks, and - get this - 27 representatives. I think we're getting into something a bit over our heads here."

"Oh, atop being such a downer, Dougal. Yeah, they each make enough to buy a house on the Citadel, but they won't harm the Alliance. Intentionally."

"And we both know that qualifier was necessary. Often, they don't know what they're doing. I'm not exactly the kind of person you want answering questions for the media; I think that most of them are little better than tabloid writers."

"That's not true. There are plenty of reporters who go more than skin deep."

"And they're all in Asari media. I might not like the policies of the Asari government, but dammit do I respect their media and soldiers. When you give someone 500 years to get good at something, they are going to get damned good at it. Hey, ops chief. We need the room for fifteen minutes. Go get your lunch."

"Yessir."

After the door closes behind him, McDougal opens the message.

-Level five classified document. Please confirm surroundings are secure before opening.-

McDougal groans. "Level five? Damn. That's as high as you can go and still have it be accessible electronically." McDougal starts up a pair of programs on his Omni-tool, locking the doors and searching for cameras and microphones. "Just the one camera in the corner. Going to take it offline until the doors unlock. Done."

"Then let's read it."

-Level five classified document. Please confirm surroundings are secure before opening.-

McDougal and Clara Shepard ("I hate it when they put our names like that. It makes it sound like we're married." "McDougal, we've been inseparable since boot. It's an easy mistake to make."), these orders are to be treated as coming from Admiral Hackett.

We have scheduled a press conference where you will address the media with a prepared statement and answer media questions ("Yes, that's what occurs at a press conference." "No fair taking my line, Clara."). It has been scheduled in Galaxy Hall in five days time, at 15:00 GMT.

Part of the setup will involve adjusting your look. A day after the conference, we will be launching our recruitment campaign, in which you are to be the central feature ("Does this mean I'm going to have to wear makeup every day now?" "Pfft, girls do it all the time Dougal." "But I'm not a girl." "I'm sure they know that."). What little has been decided involves Clara's hair; we are going to ask her to let it grow down to her shoulders and wear it back in a tail.

The slant we want you to take with your speeches and Q&A period is that humanity cannot be conquered so long as we have soldiers to fight for us. That we are peaceful, but if we are threatened, we will strike back. We will let you write your own statements, but we will look over them and clean them up a bit.

Also, this is the official notice. You are both promoted to N7. There will be an awards ceremony in two weeks time once the politicians figure out how many medals to pin onto you; at that ceremony, you will get the public promotion. As per your outstanding request, you have both been promoted at the same time.

Arcturus out.

-End document.-

"Well, this is gonna be fun. Admiral Gendon wasn't lying when he said our days as just a pair of soldiers is over."

"Yeah." McDougal unlocks the doors to the armory before continuing. "I'm too tired for this shit. Let's get to the pods and meet in the mess in 12."

"Sounds good to me. Let's just swing by the mess, grab a drink first."

...

Fifteen minutes later

McDougal and Clara are standing outside the sleeper pods, wrapping up their conversation.

"McDougal, I'm too damn tired to deal with this shit right now. I want to sleep. See you in 12."

"Fine."

They both head to their pods, McDougal slinging himself inside his and pulling the door shut. Clara simply falls into hers and lets it close on its own.

She's drifting off to sleep when she becomes aware of a loud thumping coming from outside the pod. It almost sounds like someone is smacking at metal with a rubber hammer. Clara waits a while longer, but the sound doesn't stop. Finally, she groans and opens up the door, planning on yelling at whatever idiot is disturbing the first bed rest she's gotten in over a day.

There's no workman outside.

Blinking, she scans the room, trying to locate the source of the sound. Its still muffled, but much less so. She pinpoints the sound as coming from McDougal's pod.

Now on high alert, Clara leaps out of her pod and over to McDougal. She quickly locates the emergency release lever and pulls it then flings the door open.

McDougal falls out of the pod, landing heavily on her. He's breathing fast and shallow and thrashing around in obvious panic; he doesn't seem to realize where he is.

Disentangling herself from McDougal, Clara quickly calls up the bridge. "This is Lieutenant Clara Shepard. We have a medical emergency on deck 17, room 26. Send EMT's ASAP." She hears the confirmation and immediately puts it to the back of her mind, turning back to the still thrashing McDougal.

"Dougal, it's gonna be all right. Medics are on their way. What was that?"

McDougal is muttering over and over, interlaced with his gasping breaths "can't move can't see can't move can't see can't move can't see..."

Clara sits down as the medical team rushes in. "He's hyperventilating. I need a shot of sedative. Christ, he's completely torn up his hands and arms. 20 cc's of sedative, here! Good, put it in the side. We need him calmed down so we can get him to the medbay. He's calming down sir. Good. Lift on mark. 3, 2, 1, mark. Ensign Reeves, bring the woman there along. She was the first responder, and I want to figure out what happened here."

Clara stands up, almost in a dreamlike state as she walks behind the hustling medtechs towards the medbay.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Chapter 7

SSV Kilimanjaro, medical bay. 12 hours later.

The nurse leans over Shepard. "Lieutenant, McDougal will be waking up soon. We only put him under for half a day. I assumed you wanted to be awake when he woke up."

"Thank you, miss. I'll let you know if anything changes."

"We have doctors on duty, just hit the emergency call button if he needs medical attention."

"Understood."

Shepard had spent the night in a hospital chair, wanting to be there when McDougal woke up. It wasn't the most comfortable place to sleep, but when your best friend has a panic attack for an unknown reason, it's hard to leave until you find out why.

'Can't move can't see... I wonder why he was saying that. Something must've triggered a bad memory, maybe from his time on Earth. It's odd that he didn't tell me about it though; I'm pretty sure he knows more about me than I do and vise versa. And something that would cause a panic attack on that scale is not normal. Wait, did he just move?'

McDougal had, in fact, just moved. His eyes flickered open, and he started trying to sit up.

"Whoa there, slow down a bit Dougal. You've been through a lot. Just stay laying down; it's just us in here for now.

McDougal lies back down as Clara presses his shoulders back onto the bed. He croaks out, "Got any water? My throat feels like it's been sandblasted."

Clara quickly fills a cup and passes it to him, and waits. She knows that he will tell her once he's ready.

Looking up at her, McDougal asks "How long was I out?"

"12 hours."

"I suppose you're curious as to what happened. You remember what happened when we went to meet up?"

"Yeah, you got trapped under a building."

"The last thing I remember from before I was knocked out here was being trapped in the rubble again. That was immensely frightening; I couldn't move or see, and inside the pod, I started feeling the exact same way."

A doctor bustles in. "Your heartrate just skyrocketed McDougal. Are you alright?"

"Physically yes, mentally no. If something goes wrong, Clara will call. Please leave; I'm still trying to sort through what happened on my own."

"Understood."

The doctor leaves. "What happened after the blackout? The last thing I remember is thrashing for the release and not finding it."

"Well, I at first thought there was someone hammering something nearby. After a while, I got tired of trying to ignore it and sleep, so I opened up and looked out, realized the noise was coming from your pod, ran over, hit the emergency release, and you flopped out onto me, swinging wildly and hyperventilating. I called the medics, they knocked you out and brought you here. I have pictures of what your arms looked like, if you want to see."

"Show me."

Clara pulls up the pictures on her omni-tool, showing the torn up skin and bloody mess that was his arms and hands. "You beat yourself up better than you've ever beaten me in the ring."

McDougal cracks a slim smile. "Damn. That certainly doesn't look good. At least medigel healed it without too much scarring.

"Thanks again, Clara. I owe you big time for both the original collapse rescue and helping me with the flashback."

"That's what friends are for, McDougal. If you have a problem, then it's a problem for me as well."

"Thanks, and the same to you. Mind sending that doctor in? You can go get some shuteye; I'm pretty sure I'll be okay in here, and sleeping in that chair cannot be a comfortable thing."

"I will. See you in six. We still have to write our statements."

"Think I can get off for medical reasons?"

"I think we both know the answer to that," Clara says as she leaves and sends the doctor in.

...

18 hours later, SSV Kilimanjaro mess.

"McDougal, you seriously have no idea how to write a speech, do you?"

"I'm perfectly able to write mission reports. How in hell was I supposed to know that I would end up needing to write a speech? Careful, Clara, your classical education is showing."

"You're making fun of my education again? Well, that's fine, we both know you're just jealous. Besides, you really suck at speechwriting."

"Says miss 'I have brought you here today to listen to a statement I have written.'"

"May I remind you that your first draft was "I agree with everything Clara said?" That's not phoning it in at all."

"Oh, shut up. We need to submit these pretty much now anyways. Sending."

"Same. Good to know I get to see my mother in two days."

"Less so here. If I have to put up with another week of her trying to set us up, I might just walk around with my tac cloak on constantly."

"It wasn't that bad. My mother just sees relationships for me all the time. There were a couple times when I was 16 where she set me up on dates without me knowing about it until the date showed up at the door."

"I just wish she'd take my word for it that I don't want to get romantically involved with you. I'm not gay, and you're certainly pretty, but I don't want to risk screwing up our partnership with romantic fallout if it turns out not working out."

"Eh. She's my mother; I stopped listening to her suggestions in the field of romance ages ago. She's more than a little overexcited about the prospect of getting grandchildren."

"And that's exactly why it's uncomfortable when she tries to set us up. I don't want any kids of mine to have to deal with what I did growing up, so I'm certainly not looking to marry until I'm out of the military."

"I don't have the heart to tell her that. I'm worried that she'd take it as a personal affront to how she raised me."

"On the other hand, if you told her, she might finally stop trying to set you up. We aren't Navy; we're Marines. We have ten times the fatality rate of the shipmen."

"She'd just come back with 'You're an elite N7 operative now, you aren't going to just die.'"

"I'm pretty sure she'd understand. Actually, what rank was she at when she had you?"

"Not sure. I want to say Ensign, but I might me mistaken."

"There's your out, if you want it. Point out that you are one of humanity's top N7 agents, and taking one of those out of commission for one solid year and on and off for the next ten isn't a good idea."

"Tell you what, I'll tell her that a relationship with you is not a good idea if you stop looking so goddamn desperate. It's almost funny to see how panicked you are just from the simple threat of having to face down my mother."

"So, you're leaving open the possibility of romance. Interesting."

"Ah, stow it, McDougal."

"Fair enough. I think it's time for bed anyways."

"Where are you going to sleep? I don't want to have to rescue you from another panic attack."

"Well, I can't sleep in the medbay. My plan was to find a corner to curl up in."

"The sleeper pods can fit two in a pinch. We could share. It would certainly be more comfortable than sleeping on the floor."

"You sure about that?"

"We have slept in the same bed before, McDougal. It's not like we're doing something we haven't done before."

"Alright, let's try it."

...

30 minutes later, crew bunks

McDougal opens the pod, stepping out. He's noticeably breathing in a very measured manner, focusing on that. "It doesn't help, Clara. Even with you there, I can't stop traveling back to that memory."

"Ugh. See if you can't requisition a blanket or something. It'll at least make you slightly more comfortable."

"Will do."

...

10 hours later

"McDougal, wake up."

"Ugh, fine. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. You just looked uncomfortable."

"This is far more comfortable than some of the nights I spent on earth. At least here, there isn't any vermin that might infect you when they bite."

"How are you?"

"Tired. Sore. Not looking forward to what's going to happen tomorrow. Have they sent us the revised version of our speech?

"Nope. Best guess is that we aren't going to see it until a few hours prior to the press conference."

"Wonderful, we're going in blind. This is worse than Torfan; at least there they were only trying to kill us. Here, it's going to be attempted character assassination."

"Pfft. Like you even have a character to assassinate."

"Clara, all it takes is one wrongly worded statement and the media can go hog wild. Especially since the Alliance is trying to make us the forefront of a media campaign. We have to be _careful. _Just because we're soldiers doesn't mean they aren't going to completely dissect everything we say."

"Eh. I'm hitting the training room. Care to come along?"

"Sure."

...

Three hours later

"Dammit McDougal, stop stealing my kills!"

"There is no such thing as a stolen kill, only a secured kill."

"When I'm ADS at him and you take his head off, that's a killsteal!"

"Someone's upset that they've lost five sims in a row."

"Head to head?"

"Sure."

Clara sets the simulator. "Random, all maps, head to head. If we wait fifteen minutes, we could get a betting pool going."

"Fifteen minutes of you whining about killstealing? No thanks. Start it up."

The simulation plunges them into a dense jungle in the middle of a rainstorm.

Clara quickly harseals her suit; if she's going to hit a patch of mud or river, she'd like to be able to breathe. Pulling out her rifle, she activates the motion tracker in her helmet and immediately turns it off - the local wildlife is so active that the motion tracker is next to useless.

'At least McDougal won't be able to use that annoying thermal scope of his to spot me out' thinks Clara. She grins a predatory grin. 'He won't be able to even use that rifle; he'll have to use his Claw. And this is my element; search and destroy.'

She sets out, all senses on high alert, keeping to the shadows and underbrush.

She still misses the sound of McDougal standing up out of the river behind her, but the shot that flies over her right shoulder courtesy of the water filled barrel causes her to dive and roll to the right, popping behind a tree.

'He missed his first shot. When that happens, he is absolutely loath to lose the location of his foe. He's going to move to the left under tac cloak, probably behind that odd looking tree in an attempt to get his sights on me again. There's a concealed gully right there. If I move through it, I can flank that position.' The entire series of thoughts took place in half a second, and she immediately acts, moving in such a manner as to imply that she's moving to another tree.

She doesn't realize that McDougal is already in the gully. Around the time that her head is slammed into the wall and a knife slides into her throat, she realizes that she's made a huge mistake.

As she exits the simulation sphere, she sends an exasperated look over at McDougal. "How?"

McDougal looks like the cat who caught the canary. "I was dropped right next to that gully. I knew it was there. After the water in the fucking barrel made me miss my first shot and you went right, I knew you would see it and go there, as the cover would be too good to pass up."

"You are infuriatingly good at reading stuff like that."

"I like to think so."

"Again?"

"As long as your ego can take another loss. Loser buys drinks after the press conference?"

"Sure."

...

1 day later. Kodiak shuttle, in transit between SSV Kilimanjaro and Arcturus

"You told your mother to wait for us in the room, right?"

"I told her, but with that woman, who the fuck knows what her response to that will be."

"At least we're finally going to get it over with."

With a loud *clunk,* the shuttle lands. The doors hiss as they open and let in the light of the docking bay.

A chaotic mess of flashing lights and yells for Shepard and McDougal to answer their questions greets them as they exit. Holocams are everywhere, flitting around and trying to get a better angle on Earth's latest heroes.

The guards making sure that the press and civilians don't cross the barrier hurry them along the route; it isn't long before they're into the safe(er) confines of Shepard's apartment.

McDougal groans, and Shepard grins. "Hi mom."

**========Apologies for the very slow update; I needed to plan out the story a bit better from here. Add that to a case of writer's block, and bam, no progress.**

**Please review; I can't improve if you don't tell me what I'm doing wrong.========g**


End file.
